


You Are My Cliche

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean go undercover as a gay couple. And … they like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So, it’s a gay demon.” Dean looked up from the computer screen, faint smirk on his face. “Really? I mean, he’s going in dressed in uh, Gucci or whatever the hell is fashionable and picking up little twinks then taking them out back and...” Dean waved his fist around a few times, signaling the bashing that was coming to these boys. It was a little tacky but he knew his brother wouldn’t expect anything different from him.

“Dude, can you try not to be a total dick about this? Listen, why don’t I just do this alone?” Sam sighed and flipped the top of his laptop closed; he’d sensed that this might be a problem when they’d figured out that men were disappearing from a gay club. “If your manly pride is going to be so hurt you’ve gotta be all... _Dean_ about it - maybe you shouldn’t go.”

“Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes and stepped away from the table, turning to grab his bag from the floor.

“First of all? There’s no fucking way I’m letting your perky little ass go into a gay club that’s being haunted or whatever. That demon would scoop you right up and I’d just have to bust in and save your life. Going alone would be idiotic. Tell me you knew this.” Dean pulled shirts from his bag, tugging out one that looked mildly clean and sniffing. “Would gay men wear this?”

“Gay men wouldn’t wear anything you own and my ass isn’t perky. And don’t sniff your clothes. It’s gross.” Sam wrinkled his nose and leaned back in his chair. “So, what we just go in there and have a beer and watch to see if anyone gets beaten up by... thin air?”

“It’s just like any other case Sam. Only you get to pretend to be my butt buddy. Count yourself blessed.” Dean smirked at the pinched look on Sam’s face and dropped his clothes. “Well, guess we’re going shopping. Sure as hell am not going in there with you wearing that pink cotton candy shirt you think I don’t know about.”

“No one is _ever_ gonna believe that someone like me would end up with someone like you.” Sam folded his arms across his chest, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. Pink was a masculine color on the right body type. “Just wear your usual stuff, your leather jacket and a black t-shirt - you’ll fit right in.”

Dean dipped his head in a nod and tugged off his shirt, turning to grab the black one. “I think people might believe that I felt like dating beneath what I deserve. Maybe I’m the kind of guy who dates someone not as pretty, you know, to enhance my beauty.”

Dean tugged his clean shirt on and smirked down at his bag, even though he knew Sam hadn’t meant it like that, nothing like fucking around with his brother to ease the tension.

Rolling his eyes, Sam pushed up off the chair and headed over to his bag. After yanking off his flannel shirt he pulled out a white wife beater and tugged it on. It was a little snug but he figured that was probably an advantage on this case. “Can I wear your pendent?” He held out his hand toward Dean.

“What? Why would I give you my pendent?” Dean looked over at his brother and his eyes widened a little. Okay, nothing wrong with admitting your little brother was less _little_ and more _man_ now. “See? This is why we’re going to pretend to be together. Because that demon would snatch you up in ten seconds looking like this sexed up porn star, god Sam.” Dean tugged the pendent off his neck and held it out, offering it to Sam for some reason he couldn’t name.

“I’m not gonna get snatched up but this is supposed to be believable, right? This whole thing is gonna fall flat if we get thrown out. It’s an exclusive club ya know. Took me forever to score us membership cards.” Sam slipped the pendent over his head and tucked it in his shirt. For some reason it just made him feel like he was wearing a little more.

“Maybe I should let you go off on your own Sam. You could use a good fucking to get rid of the stick up your ass.” Dean grumbled to himself, annoyed as ever by the bitching of his brother. Not that he wasn’t used to it, talk about the norm for their lives. “Fuckin’ chill Sam, it’ll be just fine. I’ll make it believable. Are you ready to do this? Or do we have to be fashionably late or something?”

“Do I get to drive?” Sam slipped his arms into his jacket. “I should probably drive. You know. Looking more butch than you and all.” He laughed at his own joke and headed toward the door and grabbing his room key as he passed the table. It was in his best interests to ignore the _good fucking_ comment because it _had_ been a while and no one knew that better than Dean. It wasn’t like they were ever apart.

“Fuck no dude. You know I’m the top in this relationship. You’re my needy little bitch so get in the passenger seat and be happy about it.” Dean palmed his keys and headed for the car, glancing over at Sam. “No one will believe you’re gay Sam, you need to stop scrunching your face up like something smells.” This was kind of their thing, Dean supposed, bickering with each other before a hunt to keep from worrying about what they might be facing.

“How do even _know_ what a top is? Huh? Mr. I’m-so-straight. Answer me that.” Sam yanked his door open and folded his tall frame into the passenger seat. I really wouldn’t kill Dean to let him drive once in a blue moon.

Sliding in behind the wheel, Dean waited until they’d reversed out of the parking lot before he fixed his eyes on Sam, smirking as he waited for the light to turn green. “Who says I’ve never been with a guy Sammy?” It was a bold face lie, he never had, but he appreciated all sorts of sexuality and he knew the basics. “How do _you_ know what a top is Sam?”

“ _You_ have _so_ not been with a guy.” Sam’s arms slid across his chest and he stuffed his hands in his armpits. “I would know.”

“Sam, you were at Stanford for a long time, I did a lot of shit during that time that you don’t know about.” Dean rolled his eyes and slid his sunglasses into place even though the sun was down. He wanted to look cool, or something, or maybe Sam could just read his eyes too easily.

“Nope. Don’t believe it.” Sam looked out the passenger window and figured that they should probably get off the topic before Dean pursued the origins of Sam’s knowledge. “So - how many guys has this whatever-it-is offed?”

“Six reported but I’d guess a few more that we haven’t discovered yet.” Dean tugged off the glasses and tossed them in the back seat. Having a legitimate conversation with his brother was almost impossible; Dean had to give in that lying about issues wouldn’t help. “So we just scope tonight, check behavior etc. If we see it, whatever suspicious behavior, check with each other first before going. Fair enough?”

“Yeah, we’re not sticking together though?” Sam wasn’t sure he particularly liked the idea of being alone in a gay bar when there was some kind of crazy-pissed off spirit roaming around.

“Sure we are.” Dean nodded, glancing over at Sam again. It wasn’t like he’d let Sam roam off anyway. He was pretty sure Sam completely fit the profile for the gay whatever killing boys in the club. “But just saying.” He shrugged and headed down a back alley, parking behind the club. “Most of the bashings were back here, seems a smart place to park. You got the cover charge?”

“What happened to being all _toppy_. You pay. I’m your bitch, remember?” Smirking, Sam slid out of the car as soon as Dean turned off the ignition.

“Dude.” Dean clambered out of the car and grabbed his jacket from the backseat, sliding his arms into the sleeves. “Are you putting out? Because unless you are, you don’t become my bitch until we get inside and I’m pretty sure I won that money anyway. So shut your trap and get your perky ass over here so we can pretend we love each other.” Dean locked the car and stepped forward, ready to walk around the building.

Sam was really starting to regret not choosing the haunting in Colorado for their next case. “Fine, but you owe me. Next time we do this - no never mind. We’re not doing this again.” Sam fell into step beside his brother and shoved his bangs out of his eyes.

“You know Sam, sometimes it hurts that you don’t like me at all.” Dean glanced over at his brother, face blank for a long moment before quickening his steps and turning the corner to the front of the building. He grabbed his wallet from his pocket and pulled out some bills, bracing himself for a night that would probably suck.

“What? Wait...” Sam jogged a few steps to catch up with his brother. “I like you you idiot. What are you talking about?” He’s thought they were just doing their usual routine, bugging the _shit_ out of each other.

“Dude, chill out. It’s cool.” Dean shrugged and glanced back at Sam, stopping as the entrance and the bouncer got closer. Wouldn’t be very believable if they came in looking like they hated each other. “Passes? Was it twenty total?” He stopped and turned to Sam, making sure everything was covered, throwing his mind into the case.

Shrugging off his frustration with his brother, Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “M’sorry,” he muttered. For all his annoying complaining about Dean, Sam hated it when his brother was pissed at him. His whole life, as far back as he could remember he’d been like that. Maybe it was it always made him feel a little like he’d let Dean down. Sam figured his brother had had enough of that kind of disappointment in his life.

“Seriously Sam, it’s alright.” Dean smiled briefly up at him and stuffed the rest of his money away for drinks later. “Let’s just do this then we won’t ever have to again right? We’ll find the thing, figure out how to take out the thing, and be on our way with no more gay boys being slaughtered.” Dean punched Sam’s shoulder and laughed softly. “You gotta pretend to like me a bit to get through this, can you deal bitch?”

Sam pushed his lips into a half smile and rubbed unconsciously at the spot Dean had punched. “I _do_ like you, dickhead.” Bumping his shoulder into Dean’s he smiled a little wider.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you can’t resist my manly charms.” Dean smirked and slung his arm over Sam’s waist, tugging him to the door. “Now be a good bitch and keep your mouth shut while I get us in this place.”

Dean resolutely did _not_ think about Sam pressed against his side as they headed up to the front entrance. The bouncer gave them both long looks but he let them in once he’d paid the money and shown their passes. The abandoned warehouse that housed the club was so loud for a moment Dean could barely breathe, like the music was pressing against his chest.

He instinctively pulled Sam a little closer and looked around, scanning through the flashing lights and moving bodies to find the bar. “Drinks?” Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s ear to be heard.

Sam pulled away a little, not so much because it was weird to have Dean that close to him but because it wasn’t all that weird. He’d better drink. “Yeah,” he almost yelled. “Beer.”

Dean pursed his lips at his brother for a long moment before grabbing his hand and tugging him through the crowd to the bar. He might not always be the smoothest man around but he could act, he could convince this whole room that Sam and he were a couple. And it didn’t hurt that Sam was pretty damn hot and people were shooting him clearly envious looks.

When they got to the bar Dean leaned forward, smiling at the bar tender until he came over. He leaned toward him and slid the money across the bar top, asking for two beers and getting a wink in return. Falling back, Dean glanced over at Sam and released his hand. “Too fucking loud.” He called out, touching his ear in case Sam didn’t get it.

Sam nodded and hopped up onto one of the bar stools. Stretching his arm along the bar behind Dean he cast his eyes around them. The problem was that he wasn’t entirely sure what they were looking for. There seemed to be people moving in every possible direction and a fair number of them were looking their way. Sam leaned a little closer to his brother and turned into to speak next to his ear. “Why are they starting at us?”

“Because we’re hot.” Dean turned into Sam, laughing softly as he pulled back and reached out for the beers sat before them. He slid one toward Sam and grinned at him. “We gotta blend first Sam, they’ll ignore us soon enough.” Dean laid his hand on Sam’s thigh like he was laying claim, shooting a look to the man at his side that had been inching too close.

Blinking a few times, Sam tried not to stare down at his brother’s hand. _Blend_. Yeah. It was going to be a long night. Picking up his beer Sam rubbed it across his forehead; he was already overheated and they’d just gotten there.

Twisting around at the bar, Dean leaned against the side and looked around at the people. The lights were flashing blue and green strobes, bodies writhing together on the dance floor. There was a pack of girls hanging along the sidelines and some were hot but Dean couldn’t hit on anyone.

It didn’t seem like there was anything out of place. Just usual people, enjoying the music and the alcohol and each other. Dean’s elbow rested on the counter top, his gaze lingering on the doorway to the back hall - and presumably to the alley way. There were some guys there, making out and rolling together in ways Dean didn’t want to think too much about because, he’d just get turned on. That would be hard to explain to Sam, literally.

Still, it seemed like the area where the creature was snatching people from and they could likely do with heading over that way, snooping around. He turned to tell Sam as much but his brother was leaning toward a tall blond, listening to whatever the man said with an intent look on his face. Dean thought for just a moment that it was case related but the man shifted a little closer, fingers curling over Sam’s arm like it belonged there.

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what the guy was talking about, after all, he could only hear every few words. But the hand on his arm kind of filled in the gaps and got Sam to what he was pretty sure was the right conclusion. The guy wasn’t bad looking, although not Sam’s type at all. Not that he’d had enough experience with guys to really have a _type_.

He could feel a blush on his cheeks and leaned a little closer to see if he could hear the guy more clearly and quite suddenly the blonde’s lips were right on Sam’s ear. His lashes fluttered closed and Sam curled his fingers into a fist.

Something clenched hard in Dean’s chest and he stared for a long moment, watching his brother shift closer, frowning just slightly. It was Sam’s _what?_ face and likely there because the music was so loud he couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Or whatever. None of this mattered though, since Dean was burning a little with jealousy and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.

So, he did what any many watching his boyfriend might do. Which was bad because Sam was his _brother_ and this thing was fake. But, it wasn’t fake to all the people they were trying to fool so Dean blamed it on that.

He stepped forward and slid his hand between them, pressing the man back and shooting him a glare before curling his fingers along the back of Sam’s neck. Before his brother could react he drew him forward, slanting his lips over his brother’s and praying the man went along with it otherwise things would get ugly, fast. And well, the feel of soft lips was kind of fantastic.

Sam had several reactions to having Dean's mouth covering his. The first one was panic, the second was the instinct to pull away; it was the third that kind of threw him. He leaned into the kiss, lips parting a little so he could really feel the way his brother was kissing him. He could taste the hoppy flavour of beer and he would convince himself later that was why he slid his hand over Dean's hip. _The beer._

The guy was likely gone and yet Dean was still kissing Sam, pressing up against him because he couldn’t get enough. How did Sam do that? How was he making Dean feel a little out of his mind? As Sam’s lips parted just a little more Dean took a chance and slid his tongue forward, sweeping it over Sam’s bottom lip, slipping his hand up under the back of Sam’s wife beater and pressing into the small of his back. This wasn’t what they were here for but he loved this, desperately wanted more of it though everything told him he shouldn’t.

The feel of his brother's tongue sliding forward kind of sent a jolt through Sam's body. All that happened was that he leaned back into his brother's hand; heavy and warm against his back. It was more than a little overwhelming - and _totally_ not something that Sam should be enjoying quite as much as he was.

Pressing his hands to his brother's chest Sam pushed him back gently to break the kiss. For a few moments all he could do was suck on his own bottom lip, almost unable to believe what had just happened. They were still so close together that Sam could feel Dean's breath on his skin and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Shivering he leaned forward, their cheeks brushing together slightly so he could speak next to Dean's ear. "Guy's gone, think we convinced him," he said shakily.

A shudder rocked through Dean’s body and he just barely nodded his head. He wanted Sam’s lips back on his and that was probably really bad. This had just gone to a whole new level of extreme but anyone who was watching would just think they were a couple far too into each other something. Dean could feel the occasional set of eyes on them but he wasn’t worried, the attention wasn’t suspicious.

Hooking his fingers in Sam’s belt loop, Dean dragged him away from the bar and into the dancing crowd, swaying forward so his hips rocked against his brothers. If he had to guess, he would figure his brother had no idea he could actually dance, let alone to club music. “Got a hunch,” Dean pressed forward to speak against Sam’s ear, fingers sliding down to curve into his brother’s ass and drag him closer still. He could feel the slight bulge of Sam’s cock and he swallowed down a moan, rolling his own arousal against his brother’s as he gradually moved them through the crowd.

For Sam, the entire situation was kind of like being drunk on something - that pleasant loopy stage of _drunk_ when everything seemed to be extra amazing and nothing seemed _wrong_. Even as Dean's body was pressing flush against his, then pulling away as he moved to the music and slid them through the parting crowd of dancers, Sam's mind was completely ignoring the fact that Dean was his brother.

The _move-together and pull-apart_ of their bodies in time to the music was fighting with Dean's _Got-a-hunch_ in Sam's head. It was a case, this was cover, that kiss - well, there weren't really any explanations for the way that kiss felt that didn't make Sam's mind flip the safety on his thoughts.

Closing his eyes he curled his long fingers around Dean's wrist and swayed back and forth in time with his brother's dancing. Dancing, that Dean really shouldn't be able to do quite as well as he was.

For Dean, there was something maddening and equally amazing about Sam’s body against his, the way his brother seemed to be letting go just a little and getting in to it. Someone pushed forward, sliding up against Sam’s back and Dean’s eyes narrowed in a glare. When the man didn’t immediately back off Dean spun his brother and dragged him in close, crotch pressing to Sam’s hips, hand splayed flat on his stomach.

Dean’s nose buried through Sam’s hair at the back of his neck, already damp with sweat, lips sliding over until they pressed into the curve where neck met shoulder. Sam’s hips rolled back against his and Dean met the roll, sliding forward and rubbing along the groove until there was no denying how hard he was. Dean told himself this was just for appearances, keeping each other safe in a crowd where someone was hunting, searching for prey, but it felt too good to be all for pretend. He wasn’t even sure how it had escalated so quickly.

“Sam,” he murmured along the back of his brother’s ear, not even sure he could hear him over the throb and pulse of music. He’d stopped moving them over to the doorway he’d been aiming for, instead they were lost in the crowd, bodies pressing in on all sides, and Dean’s fingers slid up under Sam’s wife beater, pushing the sweat damp material up.

Sam was sure his heart was still beating but it was impossible to distinguish it anymore from the pounding base of the music. Dean's palm was rough and warm against his belly and Sam could feel the unmistakable press of Dean's hard on against his ass. There were excuses bubbling to the surface of his mind, cover, too much beer, caught up in the role, for the job - but Sam wasn't nearly stupid enough to believe that any of them were actually valid.

He turned quickly in the circle of Dean's arm; a protest caught in his throat when he found his lips just a whisper of a breath away from his brother's. Dean's eyes moved up to Sam's and something flipped around madly in Sam's chest like it was trying to escape. _Jesus_ , Dean's eyes. Blinking, Sam wet his lips and his tongue just barely grazed the surface of Dean's top lip.

Dean felt a little dizzy, swaying toward Sam because it sort of felt like Sam was the center of the universe at that moment and everything was centered on that. Dean could feel the people around them, some watching, curious and intent and probably turned on because they were both hot, he knew it. He dipped in, letting his lips brush against Sam’s, intent for more.

Something crashed off to the side, loud enough to burst through the music and Dean’s intoxicated vibe. He jerked back and looked toward the side, catching just a flash of a man through the green strobe light. His hands were covered in something dark - blood - and Dean looked quickly at his brother before tugging him that way.

Dean shoved his way through the crowd and Sam stumbled along behind him still trying to catch his breath. By the time they made it to one of the back doors the man they'd seen was almost shrieking. There was blood covering his hands and arms and Sam wasn't so sure he wanted to see what had happened. Slipping up to Dean's side he leaned down to speak. "We gotta get a look before the cops get here."

Dean nodded and Sam watched his brother's eyes flit around the crowd, noting where the exits were and the best way to disappear. When Dean nodded Sam fell into step behind him and they wove their way through the crowd of people who were trying to calm down the near-hysterical man. There was a door just behind one of the stand-up drink tables and Dean tipped his chin at it before turning to keep an eye on the crowd.

Sam moved quickly, pulling the door open and ducking inside. It was just a random storage room with old tables and outside chairs and other random stuff. Then he saw the blood. He sensed more than felt Dean move into the room behind him. "Shit," he muttered softly.

“I didn’t even feel anything,” Dean muttered though that might have something to do with the fact that he was pressed up against Sam. “Try and see if there’s any clues on the body, I’ll look around the room.” It was pretty small, not a lot of places to look, but it was at least _something_ to do. They had ten minutes, tops, before they’d have to book it out of there but they needed some sort of clue as to what was going on.

Kneeling down as close to the body as he could without disturbing the pooling blood, Sam squinted and stared down at the wounds. “Dean? It looks like he was. Like he was _beaten_ to death with something. Is there anything in here like a bat or...” Casting his eyes around Sam tried to avoid looking at the open wounds and misshapen skull of the young man on the floor.

“He’s young, Dean,” Sam said softly. He was entirely _too_ young to be lying dead in the back of a bar. “No footprints in the blood,” he added almost as an afterthought. It wasn’t like they expected to find proof this was a corporeal being.

“No bat.” Dean shook his head, crouching down to see if there was any sort of bloody weapon. Frowning, Dean looked over at his brother then down at the body. It would be helpful if they could check his ID, so they could follow up on leads tomorrow but they couldn’t risk leaving prints. “No footprints, no bat, but beaten to death. We gotta get out of here, if someone sees us...” Dean didn’t need to explain how _bad_ that would be.

“I know.” Sam hesitated a moment then pulled his room key out of his pocket and hooked the key through the man’s wallet chain and pulled it out. He felt a little thrill of relief when he noticed the clear plastic pocket with the driver’s license showing. “Kevin Dawson.”

Letting the wallet fall to the floor without touching it Sam stood and moved quickly toward the door. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

Dean peeked out in the hallway before leading the way, snagging Sam’s wrist and dragging him around to the back exit. He glanced briefly at the man who had either found the body or been with him when it happened but he was surrounded by people, impossible to get to. They’d have to go back later.

He pulled them through the back door and outside, relieved that he’d thought to park right there. “Kevin Dawson.” He repeated just so they had it down and tugged the driver’s door open, slipping inside. As Sam slid in beside him he had a moment of reality slapping his face because _god_ they had totally just been all over each other. Glancing over at Sam, Dean half smiled then started up the car.

“So-” Sam cleared his throat. What he wanted to say was _What in the fuck was going on between us_ \- but he was convinced that was a question he should ask. Hunter’s instinct maybe, preventing him from asking a question he didn’t already know the answer to. “That guy - we gotta find out what we can about him and then about that place, yeah?”

“Right. Can’t really do much tonight, unless we can find some info on the warehouse.” Dean wet his lips and he was fairly certain the taste of his brother was still lingering there. “We probably should have done that first.” He admitted with a faint laugh. As they came around the corner a car sped out in front of them and Dean slammed on the breaks, instinctively reaching out to slap his hand over Sam’s middle protectively.

Sam’s heart nearly flew out of his chest. It wasn’t the accident so much as they way Dean’s touch was suddenly _different_. Dean hadn’t touched him in a different way - but now there was something inside Sam that recognized what that touch could feel like. “I - wow.” He glared out the window at the car’s taillights as it disappeared into the darkness.

He looked down at Dean’s fingers, tried to ignore the way the heat of his brother’s palm was just... _there_ , it was so fucking _there_ that Sam was sure there was going to be a scorch mark on his stomach. “Dean?”

It took Dean a few moments to realize that no, his hand probably shouldn’t remain there on Sam’s middle, fingertips almost at the top of his jeans. Even as he’d started moving again, bringing them into traffic his hand remained and that had to be weird, it should be a problem. Only it was more of an issue at this point to remove his hand at all.

“Think you’ll be able to find anything about the warehouse tonight online?” Dean asked instead and let his hand press and linger a moment longer before sliding it down, barely skirting around Sam’s zipper, over his thigh, then down to the seat.

Sam shivered and kept his eyes locked on the dark stretch of road ahead of them. “You what?”

A faint smirk played across Dean’s lips as he drove them toward the motel, letting a few blocks pass in silence. “You, Sam. Warehouse? History? Sound familiar?” Dean let his finger brush over Sam’s arm, up to his shoulder. “You cold?”

What was coming out of Sam's mouth was very different than what was going on in his head. "Cold?" _Fucking hell that felt good_. "No, I'm- I was. There should have-"

Clearing his throat Sam shifted a little under his brother's touch. "Warehouse. Tomorrow - is that what you meant? I mean we should go back to the motel tonight." His eyes snapped up to his brother's. "I mean, like we always do. Go back to the motel because that's where. That's where we sleep." Huffing softly, Sam sank back against the seat. _Smooth._

“Uh huh.” Dean nodded and had to look away to hide his smirk. Nothing like making your brother speechless by one touch alone. Of course, this shouldn’t be happening at all but Dean was looking over the obvious. “Just thought you could do some research online, you know, in our motel room. The one we go back to, to sleep like usual?” Dean’s finger slipped under Sam’s wife beater, running just under the strap. “Sure you’re not cold? Barely wearing anything.”

"Barely..." Sam felt like his brain was melting or like something had short-circuited. Dean shouldn't be touching him like that and it sure as hell shouldn't feel as good as it did. It shouldn't. And it did feel good. It felt like Dean's fingertips were sending little electrical shocks along the surface of Sam's skin. "Want me to put my jacket on?"

“Not particularly,” Dean mumbled and spun the tires as they, thankfully, pulled into the motel parking lot. It felt a little like they had two options here. One might fuck everything up - but get them quite literally fucked - and the other would include them ignoring this and going on with their relatively normal lives. He pulled into the parking spot, turned the key in the ignition and looked over at Sam, wondering which path they were supposed to go down. “There’s some beers in the fridge,” he said.

“Is that a good idea?” Sam shifted on the seat, so he could look at his brother’s profile in the beam from the small light above their motel room door. “I mean, research and all. You said - I should research.” His mind went all sorts of places and he shifted his hips a little to relieve the sudden pressure in his jeans.

“Right.” Dean nodded and pulled the key free, pushing the door open and climbing out. It was a challenge sometimes to speak through a different language, especially when they didn’t know the rules for this type of situation. Sam unlocked the motel door and Dean pressed in too close, waiting for his brother to open the door. “It ain’t gonna open itself Sam.” Dean muttered, his hand settling on his brother’s hip, thumb almost instantly slipping under the white cotton.

Jumping slightly, Sam turned the knob quickly and stepped inside the room. Stopping just inside the door he reached out for the light switch then his hand froze and he dropped it to his side leaving the room lit only by the outside lights. He could sense Dean right behind him, felt the whoosh of cool air as the door swung closed and then he heard the gentle click as it shut.

Turning slowly, Sam's eyes found Dean's quickly. His brother was leaning back one foot up on the door, keys still dangling from his fingers. Even though he didn't mean to do it, Sam's eyes were suddenly dragging down the muscles that showed through Dean's shirt, the sliver of dark flesh that was visible just above his jeans, the line of - _his brother - Jesus Christ_ \- the line of his cock in his just tight enough jeans.

Sam swallowed and took half a step closer.

In one moment Dean’s heart slammed hard into his chest and his breath hitched, words caught there, maybe protests but likely pleas. Dean’s hands were loosening and the keys dropped to the floor with a soft clunk, fingers finding Sam’s hipbone once more. His slight shift forward brought them closer together and Dean wet his lips, eyes flickering along Sam’s features. Dean had never been so nervous before possibly getting laid, and he wasn’t sure if it was just because this was his brother or if it was because it was _Sam_.

Dean’s fingers slipped under Sam’s wife beater, the tips tracing over each curve of muscle, sliding slowly up, inching higher as he listened to the way Sam’s breathing quickened.

Dean’s lips parted to murmur his brother’s name but he bit it back, afraid that any word would shatter the moment. Instead his fingers slid over the man’s nipple, testing the limits of both of their control.

The muscles in Sam's throat worked hard to swallow and he gasped softly. His nipple hardened under Dean's touch, his lashes falling to his cheeks even as he leaned forward to press his forehead to his brother's. The shiver was back in his limbs, his body; his chest ached because his heart was pounding its way through his rib cage. And it was just a simple touch.

A small moan broke the silence of their dimly lit room and Sam's fingers trembled as he raised them to pushed at his brother's jacket until it slid down over the man's broad shoulders. Rubbing his hand along the front of Dean's tight t-shirt, Sam managed to get his eyes open. Rolling his forehead slightly against Dean's he ducked down a little, lips trailing across his brother's high cheek bone.

“God,” Dean whispered before he could help himself and he couldn’t help the explosion of movement, his hands shoving hard until the wife beater slid over Sam’s head, falling to the floor. His own shirt came off quickly after, his hands running slowly down Sam’s chest and back up. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured with a complete lack of conviction, walking Sam back a step and leaning forward so his lips could run over Sam’s neck, across his bare shoulder.

Sam's lips parted and he wasn't sure if he intended to say _stop_ but nothing came out. Tangling his fingers in Dean's hair he pressed his brother's wet mouth closer, _harder_ and took another step back. Dean moved with him and Sam slid one hand around Dean’s waist, fingers moving across his brother soft flesh. There were scars, Sam knew them all - knew where each one had come from but he didn't know them like this.

The pads of Sam's fingers bumped over every old cut, the scars left by hastily done stitches, the cut from glass that was still a little tender. Dean's lips moved all the while, exploring his neck and sending little shivers radiating out from each kiss, each lick.

Exhaling shakily, Dean’s lips parted and he sucked on Sam’s collar bone, pulling blood to the surface. The kiss was too hard, pulling too much but Sam simply moaned. That was just like his brother, to enjoy things just a little rough. They would both be that way he supposed.

“Sam.” Dean slid his lips up and growled against his brother’s ear, rolling his hips forward. “We’re crossing lines,” he murmured and betrayed his words of warning by sliding his hands between them, palm rubbing slowly along his brother’s obvious arousal.

The pressure against his cock was the last straw for Sam's legs; they buckled and he fell against his brother, hands curling over Dean's shoulders. "You... wanna stop?" Sam's voice was too quiet, thick and heavy in his mouth. He didn't want to stop. He didn't want _Dean_ to want to stop. “We cross lines every fuckin’ day,” he murmured.

“Fuck.” Dean groaned. Sam’s lips against his was like the perfect sort of torture and he pushed his brother back, watching his brother bump into the nearest bed then fall back. He kicked off his shoes and slid forward, stepping between his brothers spread legs and slowly kneeling. “I don’t want to stop.” He breathed the words and dug his hands into Sam’s thighs. “Just gotta know what’s too far.” Dean’s hands slid down until he could tug off his brother’s shoes.

"T-Too far?" Sam couldn't remember stuttering since he was a little kid, but then, he couldn't remember _ever_ being so turned on. "Not too far, I mean... _fuck_ , Dean. Let's not talk." Arching up off the mattress Sam snatched at Dean's hair and pulled him hard into a kiss. It hurt like hell because their mouths collided too hard at first then Sam's tongue was slipping forward, sliding easily into the wetness of his brother's mouth.

Shifting back on the bed, Dean dragged Sam with him, rolling his brother over his body and slipping his hands down along Sam’s side and tucking under his jeans. He would just let Sam call the shots and he’d take what he could get until then. Which was currently thumbing at the button of Sam’s jeans, dragging the zipper down, slipping his hand over the cotton of Sam’s briefs before his brother could think to protest. His tongue slid forward, sweeping along the inside of his brother’s mouth greedily.

Sam felt a little frantic and a lot crazy. His hips rocked forward into the pressure of Dean's hand and he sucked greedily on his brother's tongue. The taste of beer, the taste of Dean it was all kind of crazy-making. Sam's head was whirling with possibilities and the way Dean's body felt beneath his hips was leading to the _most_ possibilities.

They should have talked about it. But there was no way Sam would be the one to stop. Not only did Dean's body feel all hard and muscular beneath Sam's, but he could feel the hard line of his brother's cock. He could feel it sliding under his own ass as he moved back and forth in an almost needy way.

Moaning into the kiss, Dean slid his hand up and tucked it swiftly under Sam’s briefs, searching out the heat of his brother’s cock and curling his fingers over the hard flesh. Sam’s cock was thick and long and Dean moaned even louder, just a little surprised by how _hot_ the whole thing was. He’d never even been with a guy and here he was, ready to come in his jeans like some over horny pre-teen just because his brother had a big dick and it felt like fire in his palm.

Dean caught Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth and dragged out, shoving at his brother’s jeans with his wrist until they slid down enough for him to pull Sam’s cock free and stroke slowly, twisting his wrist with each drag up. He wanted his brother to fall apart at his hands, wanted to drive him crazy like no one else ever had.

"Dean, _fuck_." Sam's voice was almost too low and gravelly to even be heard and he fell forward against Dean's body and rolled slightly to the side. Fingers shaking he fumbled with his brother jeans until they we're settled around his hips.

Dean's hand was still teasing the flesh of Sam's cock; gliding smoothly over the skin until Sam felt like he might actually come or just pass out. His hips snapped forward when his own fingers found their way under Dean's boxers to the heat of his swollen flesh. Sweeping his thumb over the head Sam moaned and nuzzled into his brother's neck as he thrust into Dean's firm grip.

“Jesus _Christ_.” Dean groaned and just barely managed to keep his fingers in motion, matching the pace of his brother’s quick strokes. It felt amazing, Sam’s calloused fingers running over him, twisting and squeezing in just the right away, like he already knew how to work Dean’s body like a sawed off rifle they’d both been trained to use. Dean thrust up into the touch and wrapped his arm around Sam, drawing him in for another deep kiss, twisting his body until their cocks were brushing together and his entire body was jolting.

The air was thick with moans, the soft rustle of denim and the breaths that they tried to suck in between passes of their lips. Sam's loved the feel of his brother's cock, thick and swollen - it twitched in his palm when he slowed his strokes too much.

Nipping at Dean's lip, licking along the kiss-swollen bottom lip, Sam moaned and tilted his hips up time and time again. Each slide of their hard flesh sent shivers rippling across Sam's body.

Dean moaned and Sam swallowed it up like it was nothing at all, his brother's fingers stroked over his balls and Sam's body jolted. Pulling back from the kiss, Sam's eyes widened, his hips snapped forward and he let out a small sound not unlike a growl as he came. He could feel the heat of his release on his belly, the slide of Dean's cock against his and he clung to Dean's hair and panted against his brother's mouth.

It was Sam coming that hit Dean the hardest. He thrust his body up into his brother’s touch and the heat of come and the sound of his brother’s moans and pants against his lips made Dean’s mind spin. He moaned low in the back of his throat and rocked up, his orgasm slamming against him like something painful but brilliant.

“Sam,” Dean moaned out his brother’s name and thrust forward, shoulders tensing with each rippling wave of his release.

As Sam’s body stilled against his Dean released his grip, pulling his hand free and glancing down at the slick of come over his finger. His eyes lifted to Sam’s, his heart still racing in his chest as the moment of _oh shit what just happened_ washed over him. But he swallowed the words and waited instead.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment against the tide of guilt, pleasure, confusion and a million and one other things that were flooding through him. Tilting his head slowly he breathed in the scent of _Dean_ for a few more moments - the scent of _sex_ \- and then curled his fingers around his brother's wrist. Lifting Dean's hand Sam licked at the come on his index finger, eyes locked with his brother's.

“God,” Dean whispered and blinked a few times, not sure what to make of this reaction. When his hand was clean and Sam released him, Dean was almost afraid to move. They were just, staring at each other, like the moment was far too big for either of them to grasp. One of them had to break the tension and Dean felt like it should be him, like the fact that he was the other brother made him more responsible. “Sam,” he murmured and touched Sam’s cheek with the hand that was never covered in come.

"We should get some sleep," Sam said softly. "We have a lot of shit to get through tomorrow."

The truth was, Sam didn't want to have some huge conversation about how what they did was wrong or weird or ... all the other things that Sam couldn’t convince himself to believe. There was a lot of crap in their lives - and this? Well, this, Dean's hand rasping against the stubble on Sam's cheek, the way he was still pressed up against Dean's side. This was good.

Kicking out of his jeans, Sam crawled up the bed and when Dean didn't move he flipped the covers back and held out his hand. "Come sleep." Dean wouldn’t say no to him, Dean rarely said _no_ to Sam.

For a long few moments Dean simply stared at his brother, expecting him to freak out, or at least get in the other bed, but it didn’t happen. So he kicked out of his jeans and took Sam’s hand, slipping under the covers. Another other time and he probably would have bitched about being cramped in a bed with his brother but he didn’t want to say anything that could be misinterpreted as Dean not wanting to be here.

Maybe he hadn’t known until tomorrow, or maybe he’d just been ignoring it, but this was something Dean had wanted for too long and he’d been ignoring it, making excuses for other things instead. Dean didn’t speak even as he curled against Sam’s body, grudgingly taking on the role of small spoon to their insane relationship. “Night Sam,” he whispered, sliding his arm over Sam’s.

“Night,” Sam answered softly. He nosed into his brother’s hair, took a deep breath and settled down into the mattress. They could talk tomorrow. He wanted this _now_.

-=-=-=-

Dean kept waiting for this moment when Sam took on his usual role and they _talked_ about everything that had happened between them. But Sam was out of bed and in the shower by the time Dean had woken up.

After Dean had showered Sam was ready for breakfast and he’d taken the laptop so they could research as they ate. It was like the night before hadn’t happened and Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it but Sam’s leg rested against his own under the table so that was something, Dean just wasn’t sure _what_ it was.

There wasn’t much about the warehouse online and Sam concluded they’d need to stop by the local library if they wanted to find the details. Dean decided they should interview some people connected to the murders instead, see if they could find out anything to give them a lead. The demon thing wasn’t going to pan out if there was no physical evidence that another creature had been there. It was like the victim was spontaneously beaten up.

So after breakfast they headed to the home of the first victim’s boyfriend. Dean wasn’t sure what a suitable cover story would be until the man opened the door then his hand naturally found its way around Sam’s middle and he smiled at the man.

“Hey there, sorry to bug you but I’m Dean, this is my partner Sam, we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions about Scope?” Dean spoke with a casual smile, like asking about the club where the guy’s boyfriend died wasn’t weird.

His brother glanced his way but easily fell into the role as the man considered them. “What about Scope?”

“Actually, we were testing a membership and this crazy thing happened. We just didn’t want to buy into a full membership without knowing something about all the crazy things happening there.” Dean shrugged and tucked his hand into Sam’s back pocket. “My boy has been looking for a great club for us to join but we’re a little worried about... the things. Sorry, it’s probably really rude of us, but Sam’s been worried. Right Sam?” Dean glanced over at his brother once more, hoping he’d sell the role enough to make the guy invite them in and talk. He wasn’t always the best with people.

“It’s kind of me,” Sam said softly. “I get a little freaked out by things that I don’t understand but the place seemed quite nice. Not the kind of place where people get hurt...” Lowering his gaze slightly, Sam leaned into his brother. “I just - Dean’s trying to make me feel better. We’re new in town and...” Sam sighed as thought he was having trouble speaking - putting on a shy front for the man.

“Oh, well, I guess I could talk to you guys for a little bit.” The man shifted back, granting them access for them to enter. “I’m Marcus.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean smiled and slid his hand down, linking his fingers with Sam’s as he led the way into the house. “Sam was worried about us bothering you but I’d feel better if we could get some first-hand information, gotta make sure my boy is gonna be safe.” Dean smiled over at Sam then looked back at Marcus. “So, could you tell us a little about um, some of the things that have been happening there?”

“Well.” Marcus sighed and led the way into the living room, gesturing to the couch and taking the chair across from it. “I was seeing one of the boys who was killed. Drew. We hadn’t really been together long, only a few months, but it was just-” Marcus frowned, peering down at his lap.

Dean wasn’t very good at comforting people; he always said the wrong things and Sam shot him dirty looks. So as he settled on the couch and curled his arm behind Sam on the cushion, he looked over at him, waiting for him to gently encourage the man.

“God,” Sam said softly. He shifted to the edge of the couch. “I had no idea, I’m so sorry. That must have been... I can’t even imagine.” Really? He couldn’t. He’d seen a lot of stuff in his years of hunting but seeing someone close to you die was devastating. “What happened? Were you there?”

“Yeah, we were in this back room.” Marcus sighed and looked away, fiddling with the edge of the couch. “We were just making up then just, I don’t know. Something threw me across the room and then, whatever it was, it just attacked Drew. I must have blacked out or something, because something happened and I didn’t see it. He was just, dead.”

Dean frowned, shifting forward as well. “You didn’t see anything at all? Or... hear anything? Feel anything?” Sam looked over at him and Dean cleared his throat. “Maybe someone was waiting in the room?”

Marcus groaned softly and slid his hand up through his hair. “No, there was no one in there. I remember feeling cold, I think- well, it’s stupid. I thought I saw something but it was foolish, my mind making things up or whatever. Anyway, the club is fine; just don’t go to the back room.”

Sam’s smile softened for a few moments and he tilted his head. “God, you must have been so scared. What did you think you saw? I mean - I don’t think it’s foolish.” Blinking a few times he looked at Marcus from under his lashes, voice soothing and gentle.

For a few moments Marcus considered Sam then smiled softly and shrugged. “Not sure. Something weird, blue or something. I don’t know. It’s...” Marcus laughed weakly and wet his lips. “It’s ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.” Dean tried a soft smile to but Marcus only glanced at him before looking back at Sam. “We don’t mind listening, even if you think it’s ridiculous.”

“Sort of looked like a ghost or something. You know, like what you’d see in a bad horror movie or something. All see through and whatever.” Marcus shrugged and pushed up to his feet. “Are you thirsty? I’ve got some coffee.” He smiled at Sam again, running a hand up through his short cropped hair.

“If it’s no trouble, I’d love a coffee.” Sam widened his smile till his dimples were showing. “I’m one of those lots of cream and sugar guys though.” He tilted his head a little more and glanced over at Dean.

“I’ll take-”

“Yeah I’ll be right back.” Marcus stepped back and left the room quickly before Dean could get the words out.

Eyebrows arching, Dean pulled his arm back from around the couch and glanced over at his brother. “Would you like some time alone with the man?” He mumbled and looked away, hoping he didn’t look as pouting as he felt.

“I’m tryin’ to get information,” Sam whispered softly. Taking in Dean’s posture, the way he’d shrunk back a little, Sam shifted closer. “Dean? Are you jealous?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, that’s part of the cover, so shamelessly flirting with Mr. clearly interested doesn’t really sell the image,” Dean snapped back, then thought about the stupid reasoning and looked away. “Forget it. Keep working him for information, seems like we’ve finally got some lead.”

“Sell the image?” Sam sputtered a little. Reaching out quickly he yanked on Dean’s arm and pulled him close enough that he could reach his lips. It was gentler than Dean might have been expecting because Sam pulled back at the last minute. It was more of a brush of skin than anything else. “That sell it?” He whispered the words against his brother’s lips and felt his own face warm as the blood rushed to his cheeks.

“Sam,” Dean whispered and let his forehead drop against his brother’s, fingers curling into the edge of his brother’s shirt. He didn’t really know what was going on between them and neither seemed really inclined to talk about it which was probably easier in the long run. His lips ran along Sam’s once more and he forced himself to remember they were in someone else’s house.

“Um, coffee.” Marcus cleared his throat as he came in the room, setting down a tray with two mugs of coffee, sugar and cream. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Sorry,” Sam murmured as he sat back a little. “It’s been a strange week for us. I’m sure you know the feeling. We were at the club last night and I was... well. It was strange. Can I be honest with you, Marcus?”

“You’re not really interested in whether the club is good or not?” Marcus suggested, smiling wryly. “Most people wouldn’t ask about so much about what I thought I saw. I was thinking the boyfriend thing was an act too.”

“No, well, okay. The boyfriend thing isn’t an act.” Sam’s cheeks were burning. “We thought we saw something there. I did - I mean - and Dean was trying to make me feel better. He thought maybe if we talked to someone else about it I wouldn’t feel like I was losing my mind.” Sam slipped his hand over his brother’s knee.

“That’s good of him.” Marcus smiled over at Dean and nodded, fingers curling around his own cup of coffee. “Honestly? I’m pretty sure I saw something. I know if might sound crazy. The cops thought I was insane, they held me for questioning for a long time. But I didn’t do anything; all I know is how fast it happened, how cold it was.”

“And you thought you saw something that was like a ghost?” Dean leaned forward, making up both his and Sam’s coffee without really thinking about it. “Don’t worry, Sam’s odd, he believes in those weird little things. That’s why we’re here.”

“Well.” Marcus shrugged then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen those shows, you know, with the ghost hunting things. It’s cold, something clatters, and the air feels weird. It was like that. Only, I thought maybe I saw something too.”

“The blue thing,” Sam offered. He had a feeling that Marcus didn’t know much more but there was always a chance he might say something that would give them a clue to the identity of the spirit.

“Yeah. It was, I’m pretty sure he was a guy. And he was wearing-” Marcus paused, a faint laugh playing across his lips, clearly disbelieving. “Like, worker clothes, you know? But not modern, as if he was a ghost from the twenties or thirties. I don’t know. Drew was in school for fashion and he had some books on older fashion stuff. Looked like something from that era.”

Dean dipped his head in a nod. At least there was something to go on, a ghost in the area. Maybe they’d be able to track down a death that had happened that was brutal enough to have a ghost seeking vengeance. The faintest little clue. “I’m really sorry about your loss Marcus,” Dean said quietly and leaned a little toward Sam. “Can’t imagine what i would do if I lost Sam. But we should probably get out of your hair. Right Sam? Things to do?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Listen, Marcus - thanks for being so honest. It really does make me feel a little better. I hope that - well, I hope that you are okay.” Standing up Sam held out his hand and shook Marcus’. “You seem like a great guy.”

“Thanks for not calling me insane.” Marcus smiled back and stood as well, shaking Sam’s hand then Dean’s. “Mostly everyone did.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve heard weirder things.” Dean smiled and pressed his hand onto the small of Sam’s back, leading him out of the house. When they were outside he didn’t immediately drop his hand, leading the way down the steps to the car. “So, sounds like a ghost then, clearly.”

“Guess we just gotta find out what that place might have been? You think he worked there or something?” Sam slowed his pace so he could stay as close to dean as possible. He tried to ensure it wasn’t too obvious but then, Dean never missed much.

“Guess so, or whatever the place was back then in his time. Must have been murder. We’re gonna have to look up all the deaths in that area I’d say from 1900’s up to 1950 to be safe. Library or internet or both?” Dean stopped at the passenger side of the Impala, hand still lingering on Sam’s side though there was no longer any excuse for the touch.

“Internet, Library later if we can’t... figure it out.” The way Dean’s hand felt so perfectly natural was kind of distracting. Somewhere in Sam’s head there was still a small voice trying to point out that, at some point, they should have had a conversation about everything.

“Internet it is.” Dean nodded and squeezed Sam’s hipbone then stepped back. He was a little worried about how focused they could be back in the motel room but he’d rather take that risk at this point. He smiled softly at his brother for a long moment before turning to head back around to the driver’s side.


	2. Chapter 2

An annoyed huff sounded from the other side of the car and Dean glanced over, parking behind the warehouse once more. “I’m telling you Sam. Motive suggests that the ghost will be back, maybe we can corner him and at least stop him from killing someone else.” Dean probably had a lot of other motives but he didn’t care, just like he didn’t care if Sam saw through his lame ass half excused.

“Or we could continue our research and be completely ready when we come back.” Sam shifted nervously on the seat. It wasn’t facing off against the spirit he was worried about; it was a repeat of the way he felt about his brother. The dance floor, the moving against each other, the kissing and... yeah. This was trouble.

“Fine, you want to research your way? Go on.” Dean pushed the door open, leaning in to toss the keys across the seat back at Sam. “I’ll just go and do my own research inside. By myself. Where anyone could find me or do... whatever with me.” Dean shrugged and straightened up, shutting the door and waiting to see which way Sam would end up on this.

Rolling his eyes, Sam let out a long sigh and pushed his door open. Standing he tugged his t-shirt down and twisted it a little. “Fine. You’re _not_ going in there alone. You need me. And, for the record?” He stabbed his finger at Dean’s chest. “You lied to me. This t-shirt _is_ too fucking tight on me.”

“The point, Sam, is that you’re not going to be wearing it for long.” Dean looked over at his brother for a long moment before heading off to the front of the building, leaving Sam to follow him. When his brother finally caught up, Dean glanced over at him and smirked. “Tugging isn’t gonna make it any bigger Sam.”

“S’uncomfortable,” Sam muttered. His mind was kind of stuck on the idea of his not wearing it for much longer. “It’s not coming off in there. Is it? Right?” Pushing his hair back off his forehead Sam glared at his brother.

“You got an issue Sam?” Dean paused in his steps, almost the exact spot he’d stopped the night before. “You can still turn back. Think I can manage to take care of myself in there if you’d rather not.”

Sam stared his brother down for a few moments, squared his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Just open the freaking door and let’s go do this.” There was no way he was going to be goaded into backing down. If Dean wanted the t-shirt off then Sam would get it off - and Dean might just have to deal with the consequences.

“Good, quit your bitching.” Dean muttered and finally led the way inside, trying not to stop at the sudden slam of music. It was certainly no quieter than it had been the night before. Dean held his hand out for his brother, looking over him. He was going to let Sam call the shots tonight, just to see what he’d do. Because the way Dean was feel was pretty obviously _intense_ , but he couldn’t tell if his brother felt likewise which was unusual.

Sliding his fingers across Dean’s palm, Sam twined their fingers together. Keeping his eyes locked with his brother’s he lifted his other arm high above his chest and stretched until he could feel the hem of his t-shirt riding up over his abs. Smiling coyly at Dean he tugged his brother deeper into the crowd.

Rolling his eyes, Dean shot a few glares at the men checking Sam out. He wasn’t having any of that, for sure. So before Sam could lead them to the bar Dean was tugging him back, pulling him flush against his body and swaying with the crowd of moving bodies. As the lights flashed over his eyes he smiled at Sam and slid his hand back, up under Sam’s shirt and over his skin.

Leaning into Dean’s chest, Sam rested his cheek against his brother’s and spoke into his ear. “We’re supposed to be working.”

Dean smiled briefly and slid his hands down to curve over his brother’s ass, keeping anyone else from getting up against him as they tended too. “We are,” he turned into Sam’s ear to speak back, tilting to the side so his lips brushed over Sam’s cheek. “Don’t you want this?” He asked against Sam’s lips, not even sure he would know the words.

Sam’s body jolted with a shiver of pleasure and he slid his hand up Dean’s chest to curl around the back of his neck. “Don’t want what? To pretend you’re my lover?” Sliding his hips back and forth across the front of his brother’s, Sam let his lashes flutter closed.

Dean knew he was supposed to be focusing on the case, keeping his mind open to the things happening around them and all that, but damn, his brother was so very distracting. “Not pretending,” he murmured before he could remind himself not too and pulled back just a little, looking up at his brother. “You pretending?”

Staring into Dean’s eyes Sam had to marvel for a few moments at how the lights made them sparkle. Then, he simply shook his head slowly, swallowed and slid his hand up into Dean’s hair, his other hand slipping around to slid up under Dean’s shirt. The hum of chemistry was there again - the way Sam’s body just seemed to _know_ that this was right - that he _should_ be drawn to Dean.

Wetting his lips, Dean slid forward once more and slanted them over Sam’s, deepening the kiss almost instantly. He loved the way Sam’s lips tasted just the right side of salty and sweet, warm and wet against his own. Dean could hardly stand how much he wanted Sam, it was like something burning deep in the pit of his stomach and he slid his fingertips under the edge of Sam’s jeans, pressing against his ass slowly.

Sam's heart was racing already; it was surprising how little it took when it came to his brother. Smirking against his brother’s mouth Sam pulled back far enough to reach over his head, snag his t-shirt and pull it up and off. Clutching it in his hand he pressed in against Dean's body again and felt the heat of his brother's hand on his back. There might have been a few catcalls, maybe a whistle breaking through the throbbing base of the music but Sam didn't care.

If they weren’t in the middle of a dance floor - and really it was only the laws they’d be breaking - Dean would take Sam right then and there. He’d just dropped on his knees and unzip Sam’s pants and suck him in his mouth. Considering Dean had never done that before - suck another guy’s cock that was - it had to mean something major.

Since Dean didn’t want to get thrown into jail before of anything he might do, he hooked his arm around Sam’s middle and tugged him off the dance floor, finding semi-privacy in the shadows along the wall as he pressed his brother up against the wall. They’d sort of been dancing around this all day, trying not to act on the tension, but now they were both hard in their jeans and Sam’s chest felt amazing and smoothing under his hands. “Sam,” he murmured before his lips were latching hard onto his brother’s.

Letting his head thump back against the wall, Sam lifted one foot to push against it so he could bow his body out. His hips thrust forward against Dean's and he was sure he could feel the low rumble of a moan in his brother's chest. Dean's mouth was all over his, hot and wet, moving slowly then quickly and basically just stealing Sam's breath away.

Sam was vaguely aware of people watching them; people closer than they needed to be - and why not? He would watch Dean. Dean was one of those men that people watched when he was just walking across a room - he didn't have to be doing something like thrusting up against someone.

Feeling Sam respond against him made everything more intense and Dean groaned into the kiss, rolling his body hard against his brother’s, desperately searching for more friction. He could live off this, Sam’s body moving against his own and driving him crazy with want and fucking _need_.

And then, quite suddenly, he was flying through the air and something was driving hard against his chest, like someone had taken a metal pole and thrust it against his rib cage, sucking all the air from his lungs. He was slammed up against the wall, a few feet off the ground, and his hands fumbled out to try and shove away the invisible man that was holding him. He thought he saw the ghostly image but couldn’t quite be sure.

The seconds it took between the loss of Dean's heat and Sam's body kicking into high gear felt like about a hundred years. It was like watching slow motion as Dean's body flew slid up the wall, his feet kicking uselessly at the wall beneath him, hands clutching air - but _God_ the look of fear in his eyes was palpable.

In the time it took him to push up off the wall Sam's eyes had scanned the bar around them, filtering out the swinging lights, the fear on people's faces. When he spooted a wall rack, some crazy artsy wrought iron thing he lunged at it. Brute force brought it down off the wall and he swung it in a long arc down in front of Dean's body. His brother slumped to the floor as the spirit was evaporated temporarily. Sam said a silent prayer of thanks to whomever was listening for the rack being _actual_ iron.

Dropping to his knee he scooped Dean into his arms, hand cradling his brother's neck. "Dean," he said. Dean was coughing, blinking, eyes watering and Sam realized his brother couldn't hear him. "Fuck this," he muttered.

Standing he hauled his brother up to his feet and slid his arm under Dean's, taking his weight. Shoving people out of the way he moved through the crowd quickly until they burst through the front door into the cool night air. Sinking down to his knees again, Sam settled his brother on the edge of the loading dock and smoothed the man's hair back. "Dean? You okay?"

“Sam.” Dean groaned softly and blinked a few times to clear his vision one last time. It had been blurring there for a while, green and blue strobe lights criss crossing as the spirit had attempted to squeeze the life out of him. “Thing is getting stronger,” he muttered and touched Sam’s face for a moment, a wry smile on his lips. “Guess I wasn’t doing my job well enough, didn’t get all the blood from your brain to your dick.”

“Idiot,” Sam muttered. The familiar jibing tone from his brother was kind of a welcome relief. “We need to get this job _done_ , I’m not going through this again.” Sam leaned his forehead against the side of Dean’s head and nosed into his hair. “And, for the record, I lost my t-shirt.” Now that the adrenaline was working its way out of Sam’s veins he was starting to feel a little cold.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean nodded, grabbing Sam’s arm until the man helped him up. He shrugged out of his coat - glad he’d thought the leather thing would make him look more sexy, and offered it to Sam. “The shirt didn’t even fit you.” He pointed out, maybe a little bitter, because he kept hearing _get this job done_ echoing in his mind and it was taking him to bad places.

Taking the jacket Sam slid his arms in and was enveloped by the scent and warmth of _Dean_. Staring down at his brother he held him there for a few moments. “That scared me,” he said softly. “I didn’t like it.”

“Well me neither. Getting your ass handed to you by a ghost you can’t even see isn’t pleasant.” Dean muttered and rubbed over his arms. “Sorry, should have listened to you before. We better research this and take care of it and not fool around at the club anymore.” Dean didn’t apologize to his brother often so he hoped Sam took him seriously. Just in case he was doubting, his eyes fixed on Sam’s, gaze wide. “We gotta stop this.”

“I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did - but you. You being pulled away like that. It felt - fuck I don’t know.” Sam sighed and looked down at the reddening skin around his brother’s neck. It was just as though real hands had been choking him.

“I know Sam.” Dean said quietly, thankful to arrive at their car. He leaned against the side and slipped his hands under his brother’s jacket. “We will make it right for everyone like we do yeah? And then you and I... we just go from there.” Dean’s thumbs grazed along over Sam’s skin endlessly, wanting to touch and reassure every part of him.

“I can’t lose you.” Sam stated it like it was a fact. It always had been but something had changed now. Now, it would be losing everything. Sam wasn’t even sure how to get his brain wrapped around that.

“You won’t,” Dean murmured and took a risk, sliding forward enough to gently kiss Sam once more. This wasn’t in their motel room or in a gay club, this was just them, completely caught up in the heat of it. When he pulled back after a few moments, his eyes fluttered open to see Sam’s expression. “In no way are you losing me. Got it?”

Sam nodded, and then his lips turned up slightly. Dean was about the most reliable person Sam knew. “Yeah, let’s go.”

-=-=-=-

Dean had been watching his brother pore over these files for hours now and they were trailing a lead but he hated this part, there was nothing for him to do but wait. And Sam looked so tense, so upset. Dean hated that. So he slid forward and started rubbing Sam’s shoulders, dipping down to gently kiss his neck. And when it seemed to be working, Dean slid his hands down lower, rubbing over Sam’s thighs. “Have I ever mentioned how sexy I find you while you’re researching like this?” He murmured against Sam’s ear, leaning over the back of his body.

“No, you- you never mentioned any of that before this week.” Despite the fact that Sam was frustrated by his research he could feel himself relaxing under Dean’s touch. Stretching an arm up Sam curled it around his brother’s neck and held on. “Why Dean? Why now?”

“Because you didn’t stop me.” Dean shrugged and slowly slid around, tugging Sam’s chair out from under the table and spinning him. He sank to his knees between Sam’s spread legs and slowly rubbed up and down his thighs. “Never pushed it because I wanted but thought it was too much. Then I kissed you, you didn’t stop, and so...” Dean shrugged like that was reasoning enough.

Smiling down at his brother, Sam dipped his brows slightly and sighed. “How long? I mean...” He slipped a hand over the firm muscles in Dean’s forearm, feeling them move under the surface of his skin. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Not sure it’s the kind of thing that I can really measure like that.” Dean shrugged and leaned into his brother a little more, tilting his head up so his lips could brush over Sam’s neck. “Things just kind of happen you know? And there’s no way to really put a time limit on it.” It was a little like a cop out, Dean wasn’t sure he could place when any of his feelings had really originated.

Squeezing his legs tight against Dean’s hips, Sam smiled wider. “And now? What are we doing? This is... I mean... this is-” he shook his head. Each time Sam had tried to put their relationship into words they just didn’t seem to do it justice. Sometimes Sam worried that if he didn’t choose the right words Dean would bolt.

“Hey.” Dean pulled back just an inch and gripped Sam’s jaw, squeezing until his brother met his gaze. “Look, we both know I fuck up these things. And we’re a little shit with the talking thing. But, it’s you and me, alright? Whether we’ve got the physical thing or not, still gonna be us. So maybe we can just go with that?” It was easier than trying to classify their relationship that was for sure.

“You don’t want it?” Sam couldn’t help the way his eyes widened. He knew that Dean was the one putting everything out there and, for once, it was Sam who was asking questions and playing truth or dare.

“Do you have some filter in your brain that prevents you from hearing anything but the one negative part of a statement?” Dean smiled up at his brother and shook his head. “I want you, I want this, but I want you to know if you don’t it won’t change us okay?”

“No,” Sam said softly. His head tilted to the side a little, cheek rubbing against Dean’s hand. “I mean yes, I do. Want it.” His legs tightened on Dean’s body again, holding him there. “This case... it’s kinda crazy. For these guys to lose someone like that.”

“I know. We need to figure out who the ghost is, doesn’t seem like they want to close the club no matter who gets hurt. So the sooner the better.” Dean wet his lips and slid his hands slowly down Sam’s chest. “After we get rid of the body and make it stop, we should go back for an actual night of fun.”

“Back there? Really?” Sam’s heart picked up a little speed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about that. Both times they’d been in the club Sam had been a little caught up in the atmosphere; the movement of all those bodies, the music and the tingle of excitement at knowing people would think he belonged to Dean.

“Yeah, really. Would like to dance with you without having to worry about some gay bashing spirit slamming me up against the wall.” Dean laughed softly and dropped his hands down to Sam’s crotch, rubbing slowly. “Seems like you like the idea.”

Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Sam tried to stifle his moan. “‘Sposed to be workin’,” he muttered. His hips shifted forward, legs falling open to give his brother more room.

“I know,” Dean murmured and slid his hands up, under his brother’s shirt. He bent forward with the motion, letting his lips trail over the salty warmth of his brother’s abs. “All you gotta do is say stop.” He whispered and pushed Sam a little further back in his chair, wanting to taste him all over again.

"It's not gonna happen, Dean," Sam said softly. "That why you keep askin'? I want this, you. I want you." Sam couldn’t explain why he felt the way he did; he didn't understand it - it went against everything they should believe but he didn't care. Crossing his arms Sam tugged his t-shirt up and off, tossing it to the side then reached down to do the same with his brother's.

“Never been one for any form of rape.” Dean snorted and shook his head. Having his brother’s complete consent in this thing made it all the more better. “The way you were talking the other day, made it sound like maybe you’d been with guys before. This true?” Dean slipped the button free on Sam’s jeans and dragged the zipper down, shifting on his knees so he could pull at the clothing.

Sam studied his brother’s face for a few moments, lifting his hips a little so Dean could rid Sam of his jeans. “I’ve done some stuff with guys. Does it matter?” Wetting his lips Sam tugged on Dean’s arms until he stood up and started working on his brother’s jeans. Leaning in he mouthed his way along the denim barrier, kissing and licking at the warmth of Dean’s mid-section.

“No, doesn’t matter.” Dean whispered and closed his eyes, enjoying the warm feel of his brother’s lips. He ignored the flair of jealousy that curled through him and bit down on his lip, teeth dragging along the skin. “You know I was supposed to be the one doing the tasting.” Dean muttered, blinking his eyes open to stare at a spot on the wall above the bed.

"Mostly just touching, kissing," Sam said between touches of his lips against Dean's hot skin. He pulled his brother's button loose and ran his tongue along the opening in the denim. "Nothing like this, no one like you." Pushing Dean's boxers lower Sam lapped at the downy hair he discovered there and smiled.

His fingers shoved the denim the rest of the way down and Sam slumped down enough to get his mouth over the cotton that covered his brother’s thick erection. Sucking on the material he was _sure_ he could taste Dean’s flesh through it. “MMmm, tastes good,” he murmured.

“Said it doesn’t matter.” Dean muttered, half gasping as he rocked forward into the heat of Sam’s mouth. It was a little maddening, considering the layer of cotton separating that wet heat from his own flesh. “Sam,” he moaned and dug his fingers into Sam’s shoulders, sliding down until he could tug his brother off the chair and have him standing.

“I want you,” Dean whispered, his hands sliding down to tuck under Sam’s jeans and boxers, fingers curving over his ass and squeezing so his words couldn’t be interpreted as anything but what he really wanted.

Sam's spine felt like a fuse that was burning up the center of his body. "Dean, I've never..." Sam ground his aching hard-on against the firm muscle of his brother's thigh and slid his own figures into his jeans to shove the material down. It suddenly felt a little like he was going to die if he didn't get Dean's hands on him soon. “Have you?”

“No, told you, never done the guy thing.” Dean slid parted lips over Sam’s, drawing him away from the chairs and over to the bed. “We don’t have to,” he breathed and shoved at Sam’s clothes, pushing his own boxers down a moment later. Their bodies slid together, hard cocks rubbing past each other for a moment as Dean’s fingers curved back over his ass once more. He mouthed along Sam’s collar bone and arched into his brother’s body. “S’all up to you.”

"What do you want?" Sam rubbed his face into Dean's hair, lips tingling with the tickle. "I want to do what _you_ want." His fingers gripped Dean's hair and pulled him back so their eyes could meet. "I want it all." Smiling, a little nervous, he leaned in and kissed the corner of his brother's mouth. "Tell me what you want."

“I told you.” Dean chuckled softly and shook his head, hands passing up through Sam’s hair. “I want you, I want...” he exhaled shakily and tried not to rock his body forward just _thinking_ about the words he was going to say. “I want to fuck you.” Dean kept his eyes on Sam, letting him see the way his gaze darkened as heat crawled through him. Maybe it was the dirty wrong of it, or maybe it was just Sam, Dean wouldn’t be able to say for sure.

The heat that slid down Sam's body combined with the look on his brother's face took him out at the knees. As he sagged forward a little, Dean caught him and their mouths crashed together. The kiss made Sam's body shudder with pleasure. Everywhere they were touching there was heat, and hard and smooth and Sam was going to lose him mind; he could feel it.

Dean backed them up to the bed and slid his brother down onto the mattress, crawling with him so their lips never parted. His knees pressed into the bed on either side of Sam’s thighs as he stretched out, rocking his body forward. Judging from his brother’s reaction, Dean thought they were on the same page and he slid to the side, pushing Sam’s legs further apart with the back of his hand.

As he pulled back from Sam’s lips his fingers curled over his brother’s cock, stroking slowly up and smiling softly at the rise of his hips. “Guess you’re gonna have to tell me what to do.” Dean smirked at his brother, dropping down to kiss along his shoulder and over his neck as his fingers continued to move. “You’re gayer than me.”

Laughing low and soft, Sam let his head fall back against the mattress. "Somehow, I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass," he muttered. His hips shifted and their swollen cocks slid together and Sam's laughter was cut off by a moan.

The curves of Dean's body passed under his palms as Sam learned every surface, every bump of a scar, every clench of a muscle. This close to Dean he could see everything, the way some of his freckles were connected, the tiny line of green left around his pupils, the way there were golden red flecks in his hair. Their lips were still moving together, sliding wet and slick and when Sam finally needed some air he pulled back to suck it in greedily.

"You gotta. You gotta finger me open," he said softly. Heat skittered up his chest and settled around his neck.

“Jesus,” Dean half murmured, half moaned. Hearing his brother say things like that was a little mind spinning. “You ever fingered yourself open?” Dean asked quietly, bringing his hand up and contemplating his fingers. He was sure he had lube somewhere but he didn’t feel like bothering to go look for it. Instead he curved his finger over Sam’s lips, parting them with a slow press forward.

Sam had been about to answer then Dean's fingers were rasping across his teeth. He slid his tongue between them, circling his brother's digits and then curled his hand over Dean's to hold it there while he sucked hard. Dean's cock twitched against his thigh and Sam moaned and rocking his hips up .

Eyes fluttering closed, Dean savored the feel of Sam’s mouth slicking over his fingers before he pulled back, the sensation far too much to keep him under control. His eyes snapped open as he slid his hand down, fingers nearly dripping as he rubbed along the entrance of Sam’s body. “So, have you?” Dean’s voice was deep and thick as he pressed his finger forward, spreading him in one slow, long push forward.

"Fuck," Sam's voice was low and rough. There was a tremble starting low on his body and he could feel the stretch of his tight ring of muscle. Dean's finger felt strange and lust slammed into Sam making it difficult to breathe. His body twisted on the bed, seeking out more contact with Dean. Hooking a leg over his brother's back Sam arched up and moaned.

Something about making his brother react this way had Dean nearly shuddering, cock sliding along Sam’s thigh as he rocked forward for friction. Sam took his finger like it was the best thing he’d ever felt, like he couldn’t possibly get close enough no matter how much he arched up. So he slid a second finger in, watching the sheer bliss coloring Sam’s cheeks. “Not too weird then?” He murmured, lips brushing over Sam’s then pulling back.

"Not too- _fuck_." Dean's finger sweep over just the right spot and Sam body arched up off the mattress in an almost perfect bow. His fingers curled hard into his brother's hair and he felt Dean's lips moving down his throat and sucking on his Adam's apple. Shivering, Sam sank back down onto the bed with a release of air from his lungs and let out a startled laugh. "Do that again," he breathed.

“Knew there was something that was going to make you twitch.” Dean grinned down at Sam and pressed his finger harder forward, moving deeper, with more purpose. Sam’s entire body was in constant motion against his, a nearly dizzying curve up as their skin slid together. By the time Sam was rocking down on Dean’s three fingers, Dean couldn’t take any more. He pulled back completely, rolling off Sam and almost collapsing on the floor.

Sam groaned and looked up over at him and Dean laughed. “Take it easy, just gettin’ some lube. Not gonna spit in my palm for our first time.”

Sam's eyes narrowed and he watched his brother move across the room, eyes traveling up and down Dean's body. "Like watching you," he murmured. Curling his hand around his weeping cock, Sam let it travel up and down a few times then cupped his balls and squeezed, stretching his legs out. "C'mon," he muttered.

“Gonna go slower if it’ll get you to beg.” Dean pointed out and laughed softly, dipping down to dig in his bag. A moment later he was standing and turning, clutching a bottle of lube and a condom as he turned back to his brother. He could get used to seeing _that_. Sam’s flushed body, the way he so leisurely stroked over himself. “You should do porn.” Dean muttered as he crossed the room once more, crawling between Sam’s spreading legs. “We should do porn together, make some good money.”

"M'not sharin' you, not anymore." Sam remembered all those nights he'd watched Dean in a pub, leaning too far over the bar and talking to a waitress, getting a phone number, lips moving too close to long dark hair. "MIne now." Sam's fingers were back in Dean's hair and he yanked his brother up hard. "Tell me - no one else anymore." He couldn't help the waver in his voice.

Staring down at his brother for a long moment, Dean slowly dipped his head in a nod. “I promise, no one else anymore.” He was fairly certain no one would be able to compare to his brother anyway, Sam filled all those places in him he couldn’t name. Wetting his lips, Dean shifted back on his calves and lifted his hand, condom gripped between his fingers. “I need this?”

Shaking his head slowly Sam took a slow breath in. "Not 'cause of me." It had been a damn long time since Sam had been with anyone. It was only just _now_ starting to occur to him that there may have been a reason for that.

“Yeah well, you know me. Was always smart about that kind of thing.” Dean tossed the condom to the side and fell over Sam’s body once more, slanting his lips over his brothers. He kept his hips back, hastily slicking his fingers then stroking along himself. It felt more than good to have this, to think about still having it tomorrow, knowing this wasn’t temporary. He pulled back from the kiss as he lined himself up, eyes fixed down on Sam as he slowly thrust forward into him.

"Jesus _Christ_ -" Sam grunted and his arms wrapped around Dean's neck quickly. The burn was a little overpowering and Sam was panting softly, eyes squeezed shut, lips burning against his brother's cheek. "Dean," he whispered. A frown creased his forehead and he turned his face into Dean's neck, drowning himself in the scent of his brother.

“S’okay,” Dean murmured and continued to press forward until he bottomed out, buried completely in Sam. He knew it couldn’t be the most comfortable thing at the moment, he was in no way small and he probably hadn’t stretched Sam as much as he should have. So he forced a hand between them and curled his fingers over his brother’s cock, slowly stroking as he waited, the air caught in his lungs at the tight pressure around him.

Sam's cock hardened quickly under Dean's touch, the pleasure once again overtaking the pain of the stretch. Chasing Dean's mouth, Sam nipped at his brother's bottom lip, gasped and pressed up into the heat of those luscious lips. Dean would laugh to hear Sam's thoughts, but Sam didn't care, Dean's mouth was about the most kissable, sexy, hottest thing ever.

Moving tentatively, Sam circled his hips and everything suddenly got a lot more intense. "Fuck,” he said softly and let out a small laugh. "That's-" Licking his way back into Dean's mouth he thrust his tongue into the wet heat and moaned.

The faint laughter was enough to have Dean’s heart quickening and his hips pulled back, slowly rocking forward once more. Sam’s body was instantly moving against his, struggling for more. Dean sucked hard on his brother’s tongue, pulling and holding him there as their bodies moved together, steadily picking up pace, each thrust just a little harder, impossibly deeper. Dean moaned into his lover’s mouth and he pulled back with a gasp, forehead rolling along Sam’s as he moved his body into him.

The sound that came out of Sam's mouth was entirely too close to a whimper. He shifted and pushed up, longing for more of that hard thrusting. Hands clawing at Dean's back, Sam growled quietly and pulled his hips back so he could wrap his legs around Dean. Though he wouldn't have thought it possible, it was like the move opened his body up more and Dean sank deeper. Heart hammering in his ears, Sam moaned and bit down on his brother's shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean moaned low in his throat and stopped for just a moment, too caught up in the way Sam’s body clenched around his with the next wave of pleasure. Then something in him snapped and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled all the way out and thrust hard forward, his groan nearly echoing Sam’s as he moved. His spine bent as he drew back and thrust quickly back in, like he couldn’t handle the idea of not being in him for any length of time. He wanted to spend forever buried in Sam and it had _never_ felt this amazing.

Sam's hands fell down his brother's body. One gripped Dean's ass tightly, pulling him forward and the other dragged down his brother's chest. The way Dean's body was arched up over him was gorgeous, he was all flushed skin and the sheen of sweat and it was like he couldn't stop staring down at Sam ... like he too couldn't believe this was finally happening.

It felt like hours had passed with him buried in Sam. It was the most amazing thing Dean had ever felt and he didn’t want it to end. His body constantly thrust down into Sam’s and Sam was arching back, drawing him in and holding him there. Once more Dean slid his hand between them, stroking along Sam’s cock in time with his quick thrusts. His lips parted over the man’s and he gasped the words as a moan. “Want you to come for me.”

"Jesus," Sam hissed. "I-" he choked on a moan and thrust up quickly. Dean's fingers were coaxing him too quickly toward his peak and he could feel the hot chill of it burning down his flesh.

"Dean," he murmured. His lips found his brother's in a brief kiss and then he was arching up and then it all slammed into him like a brick wall. The weight in his balls was like lead and his cock tightened and throbbed and he came with such force that it felt like all the air in the room was gone completely.

Dean decided at that moment that he could watch his brother come a thousand times and never tire of it. The pleasure on his face, the flush over his skin, the tight clench around his cock was amazing.

Dean moaned his brother’s name in a long draw as his orgasm quickly caught up to him, causing his hips to stutter and stop, hot come quickly filling Sam and shaking Dean’s shoulders.

He collapsed on his brother turned lover, panting into his neck and still gently rocking forward to pull out the rest of his release. “God,” Dean gasped against his skin, lips curving into a soft smile.

"Yeah," Sam murmured into the kiss. He pretty much didn't have anything else that was worse saying except _holy shit_ and that seemed, somehow, inappropriate. "I wish-" Sam's brow furrowed and he circled his arms around Dean's neck and pulling him close.

“What?” Dean struggled back a little, brow furrowing as he stared down at Sam. “What do you wish?”

“That we hadn’t waited so long.” There wasn’t any regret in Sam’s mind, just a wish that he could turn back time to all those long summers and the nights falling asleep in his brother’s arms in the back seat of the car.

Dean smiled softly down at his brother and gently pulled free, rolling to the side and dropping his arm over Sam’s middle. “I know. But we’ve got years to make up for it. ‘Sides, we needed the stuff to build up to this. Right moment, right time and such.” Dean pressed up against Sam’s side, kissing his shoulder and closing his eyes for a long moment before sighing. “You’re thinkin’ so loud I can hear it.”

Sam’s arm curled up around Dean’s neck and his fingers combed through the soft curls at the nape of his brother’s neck. “I just wanna stop this spirit. Stop people losing -” he sighed and turned his mouth to Dean’s forehead, kissing him softly.

“I get it,” Dean murmured and opened his eyes once more, pushing up to smile down at his brother. “We can skip the nap? There’s only so many brutal deaths in the warehouse I’m sure. We’ll figure it out; do what we’ve got to do.” Dean brushed the hair off Sam’s forehead, dipping down to kiss him once more.

“Guess we better go in undercover. You know. You’d better wear those tight jeans again.” Sam’s lips twitched as he tried to keep his smile from spreading.

“You want me to look hot for you? All you gotta do is ask Sammy.” Dean smirked and patted his brother’s side. “You know it’s probably gonna come down to us digging up a body right?”

“I know, it’s your turn to dig though.” Sam caught Dean’s lips in a kiss before he could protest.

When Dean finally pulled back he moved back and pulled Sam with him, smacking his ass. “If you get my hands all blistered then I won’t be any fun in bed.”

“Can’t have that.” Sam laughed softly.


End file.
